


Say Everything

by two_waymirror (darksylvia)



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Feelings, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-12
Updated: 2007-06-12
Packaged: 2020-11-28 07:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darksylvia/pseuds/two_waymirror
Summary: "If you want," Brendon said, softly, almost shy. "You can just...stay at my apartment until we go to Maryland. We could, like, carpool to practice. And work on songs whenever we felt like it. And have midnight pancake parties."Ryan grinned up into the night, and said, not even having to think, "Yeah, Okay."





	Say Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, turnyourankle, for the beta <3 and taught_to_dream for help with a troublesome line.
> 
> For the [June 5th prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/we_are_cities/94707.html)

They stopped walking at the same time, facing up the road that would take Ryan to his house. It was only a little way, but it looked like miles. He didn't want to go. It was either empty, or worse, full of his dad, and smelling like whisky. Like...not home. Like where he'd spent the past seventeen years of his life, existing.

"You could stay over at my apartment," Brendon offered, after a moment.

"Thanks," Ryan agreed, easily, and they continued walking. One of the things he liked best about Brendon, in spite of all the rampant sugar-high energy, was that when it counted, he knew what _not_ to say. Sure, sometimes he delighted in saying something intentionally infuriating to get a reaction, but there was also empathy under there somewhere, and it reassured Ryan deeply every time it surfaced. They walked in silence for a few blocks, everything dim, but visible because of the streetlights and the moon.

"Race you," said Brendon, suddenly. He glanced over at Ryan with a quick flash of teeth, and then he was off. The head-start didn’t do him any good. Ryan was a faster runner, and he quickly caught up. 

It was kind of weird, running through a quiet neighborhood on a hot night, the only sound their shoes slapping down on the sidewalk, and their breathing.

Then Brendon skidded around a corner and leapt someone's fence. Ryan could hardly let him get away with that. He hoisted himself over the fence, too, put on a burst of speed, and tackled Brendon before he'd gotten to the next fence.

The grass was long in this back yard, some of it dead, and yet it was a shock to discover it was wet. It felt good to lie in, since the air was still pushing eighty degrees. The house was dark and empty-feeling, but _someone_ must have watered the lawn. Luckily, no one came out to see the two people tumble down in their back yard.

Brendon was laughing too hard to get back up, but he did manage to roll them both over so they were lying on their backs, gasping for air around breathless laughter. Their hands had fallen next to each other, and Brendon connected them, palms sticking together and bits of grass prickling bare arms.

"I bet all the aliens that visit Earth come to the Luxor first," Brendon said, apropos of nothing. They could distantly see its light beaming up into space even in this suburb, making the stars a little harder to see.

"It would certainly explain some of the weird shit on the strip," said Ryan.

"Yeah." 

They lay in silence for a minute, until their breathing was completely back to normal.

"If you want," Brendon said, softly, almost shy. "You can just...stay at my apartment until we go to Maryland. We could, like, carpool to practice. And work on songs whenever we felt like it. And have midnight pancake parties."

Ryan grinned up into the night, and said, not even having to think, "Yeah, Okay." 

He didn't know what made him accept so easily. Usually stuff like that made him agonize over the decision, made him jumpy and uncomfortable. Usually nothing about social interaction came this easy. But Brendon was so open about everything. He was easy to say yes to and hard to say no to, and Ryan felt more comfortable with him in the few short months they'd known each other than he'd felt with any one, _ever_, except Spencer. Plus, like he said, they had a lot more songs to write.

"Good," Brendon breathed out, as if he'd been holding his breath and Ryan liked that—liked that Brendon hadn't been sure but had asked anyway.

They went back to silence, and Ryan almost felt drowsy when Brendon propped himself up on one elbow, and looked like he was about to say something. Brendon's face was unusually intent, as if he were thinking really hard about his words.

"What?" Ryan said, finally.

"I'm going to—. Okay, Ross, don't freak out, but, I'm going to kiss you."

Ryan opened his mouth, another startled 'what?' on his tongue, but then Brendon's lips were pressed against his, a little slanted to fit, firm and soft at the same time. It took the space of a handful of slow breaths.

Brendon pulled back a few inches after a moment, his quick breathing brushing Ryan's cheek.

"You're not freaking out, right?" he asked, his eyes wide in the dark, trying to make out Ryan's reaction better.

"No," Ryan smiled.

"Oh. Okay. Well, that's good. I didn't want to weird you out or any—" 

Ryan surged up and _took_ this next kiss, earning himself a little surprised grunt, and also entrance into Brendon's mouth. He flicked his tongue under Brendon's top lip, angled his head, and kissed him harder. When he got tired of holding himself up on his elbows, he collapsed back to the ground, and Brendon followed him down, refusing to be disconnected.

When they finally broke apart to breath—Ryan's hand fisted in Brendon's hair, and Brendon half on top of him—Brendon gasped, "Jesus, Ross." He dropped his head onto Ryan's collarbone, and shifted so more of him was covering Ryan. He didn't move for several long seconds, the only sound Ryan's heartbeat shuddering in his ears. 

Brendon's head shifted and he pressed his lips just to the side of Ryan's Adams apple. Then he lifted his head, took Ryan's jaw in one firm, deliberate hand and said, "More."

The word reverberated up from Brendon’s chest through Ryan's, sending a shock through him before their lips even touched, and Brendon was really purposeful this time, taking advantage of Ryan's open mouth with unprecedented concentration. His kisses weren't rough or urgent, they were just...breathtakingly thorough. He used the hand on Ryan's jaw to subtly shift their angle every so often, and Ryan actually saw little points of light behind his shut eyelids. He thought he finally understood what people meant by 'drowning' in a kiss, except he would describe it more like the sensation you got when an airplane started to descend. 

He was so far under, so fucking mind-blown, that he didn't even notice they’d gotten tangled together, his leg somehow between Brendon's thighs. But when he shifted, Brendon gasped into his mouth, lips stilling. So he shifted his leg again, experimentally, and Brendon tensed all over, a low throaty, unbelievably _hot_ sound rumbling against Ryan's lips.

Brendon always moved in starts, frenetic energy, but here his movements were even more unpredictable, and they made crazy chemical reactions in Ryan's stomach. 

Brendon pulled quickly back, eyes so dilated with lust that they seemed to take over Ryan's vision. In another little fit of movement, he shifted their hips into better alignment. He darted down to take another kiss and then said, with his hand flat, to the side of Ryan's stomach, "Can I touch you?" His hand moved just over Ryan's dick and probably the way Ryan's hips jerked up and the choked noise that escaped gave his answer, but he rasped, "_Yes_," anyway.

Brendon lost no time, nimble fingers unbuttoning Ryan’s pants. Propped on one elbow, and looking intently down at Ryan, he wrapped his long, calloused fingers around his cock and Ryan’s eyes slid shut on a sharp exhaled breath.

"You look kind of how I thought you would," said Brendon, his voice precise, but dropped down deeper than usual. "Kind of like you do when you get really into playing your guitar." Ryan couldn't stop the low, strangled sound that came out. "Though I've never heard that noise before. I would have remembered it." Brendon sounded breathless, now, which he thought was only fair.

Ryan was rocking his hips without really being aware of it, had no idea when he'd started. And his hand was clenched in Brendon's t-shirt, one of his leg wound around one of Brendon's. And this was _god_ so good but he wanted—he didn’t know. More contact. Something—

He snapped his eyes open, looking at Brendon, who was looking back at him, a little awed, a lot interested, the motion of his hand slow and perfect. His mind took a snapshot, locked it away.

Then Ryan pushed up and rolled them. He put a knee on either side of Brendon's hips, planted one hand on Brendon's chest, and made short work of his zipper with the other. Brendon helped him peel both of their jeans down just enough to get their zippers out of the way. Ryan got his hips angled right, and when he shifted his hips to bring their cocks into alignment, Brendon’s whole body shuddered under him and Ryan broke out into goosebumps all over. 

He braced himself over Brendon, leaned in to fit their mouths together as their hips figured out a rhythm, as Brendon's hands clenched a little wildly around his hips, helping to grind them together even harder.

"This is so, so, so, so, so good," Brendon muttered between kisses. "How is this even possible?"

Ryan knew what he meant. He wasn't all that experienced, but he wasn't a virgin, and it had _never_ felt like this, like his skin was going to start crackling any second, where every slide of his dick against Brendon’s made his consciousness blink out for a millisecond. Brendon panted into his mouth and wrapped a long arm around Ryan. The hand that was in his hair clenched and pulled and it _almost_ hurt, but in a really good way, and Brendon tensed and curled in and shuddered so hard underneath him, his teeth biting Ryan's lip, that Ryan couldn't help but thrust forward and come, too.

In fact, he came so hard that he thought he might actually have passed out for a second. He was plastered across Brendon, face squished to his shoulder, and he might have even drooled a little bit. Brendon was boneless under him, except every so often he shifted his hips up a little, causing them both aftershocks.

"Are you alive, Ryan?" he whispered softly, after a while. He stroked a hand down Ryan's spine.

"Maybe," said Ryan, not moving.

In response, Brendon wrapped both arms around him and relaxed a little further.

Eventually, Ryan found the strength to peel himself off Brendon and roll to the side, their shoulders still touching. When Brendon didn't move or say anything after a while, Ryan turned his head to look at him. Brendon was never quiet for this long.

"What is it?" he asked. Then he hesitated and tried not to wince. "If you don't want me to come to your apartment that’s—"

"No!" said Brendon, turning to look at him wide-eyed. "That's not it."

"Okay," said Ryan carefully.

"I don't want you to think—. We don't have to, well, I just. I didn't ask you to stay at my apartment because I wanted to have sex with you," said Brendon, earnestly peering over at him. "I mean, I _wanted_ to. Want to. But I also like hanging out with you, and writing songs with you is the best thing that's happened to me in, like, ever, so..." He trailed off, looking a little uncertain, which was a look that didn’t fit Brendon, who was usually confident even when perhaps he shouldn't be.

"Urie," Ryan said, trying to stifle a laugh. "If I was worried about you using me for sex, I probably wouldn't have said yes to living at your place." Ryan let the laugh out a second later when he added, "Though if it's like that every time, you might want to worry about the way I'm going to use _you_ for sex. And song writing. And midnight pancakes."

Brendon grinned crazily at him, said, "Want to try this again in a bed?" And he surged to his feet and zipped up. He dragged Ryan up, too, when Ryan apparently wasn't moving fast enough for him. 

His idea of helping Ryan back into his pants was to molest him and kiss him at the same time. His multitasking was kind of impressive actually, and it was the unfair advantage of Brendon's mouth that cost him valuable seconds when Brendon murmured, "Last one back to the apartment gets all the yellow gummi bears!" and took off over the opposite fence. 


End file.
